


Rink with a View

by WrathoftheStag (Mwuahna)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Anxious Jack, Edwardian Period, F/M, Falling In Love, Generic Chad™, Jack is engaged to Chad, M/M, Nursey is Eleanor Lavish, Shy Jack, Travel, William is cousin Charlotte, because of course, being brave, bitty is george emerson, finding yourself, jack is lucy honeychurch, manners, room with a view, room with a view AU, shitty is the reverend mr. beebe, zimbits - Freeform, zimbits au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 14:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwuahna/pseuds/WrathoftheStag
Summary: It was in the spring of 1876 that John Gamgee created the first ice skating rink in London.  The Glaciarium was looked upon with great curiosity and--for some--suspicion, for who would dare ensnare nature in that way?  The Florentine Salvatore brothers rose to the challenge the following year by creating the first indoor ice rink that could remain cold during the summer months.   Several years later, in 1911, one Mr. William Poindexter and his cousin, Mr. Jack Zimmermann, visited Florence with the intent of seeing the Palazzo del Ghiaccio and it is here, where our story begins.A Zimbits/Room with a View AU...





	Rink with a View

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be my OMGCP Big Bang fic, but I switched to something else. So, I had this started and figured I should finish it. It's definitely a WIP, but I have it all planned out. 
> 
> "If Mr. Zimmermann ever takes to live as he skates," the Reverend Mr. Knight said, "it will be very exciting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

**PART ONE**

It was in the spring of 1876 that John Gamgee created the first ice skating rink in London. The Glaciarium was looked upon with great curiosity and--for some--suspicion, for who would dare ensnare nature in that way?

The Florentine Salvatore brothers rose to the challenge the following year by creating the first indoor ice rink that could remain cold during the summer months. Such a feat had yet to be seen, and so, the Palazzo del Ghiaccio, which sat just off the Arno, drew visitors from across the continent and beyond to marvel at this wonder. 

Several years later, in 1911, one Mr. William Poindexter and his cousin, Mr. Jack Zimmermann, visited Florence with the intent of seeing the Palazzo del Ghiaccio and it is here, where our story begins.

“The Signora had no business to do it,” Mr. Poindexter said, “no business at all. She promised us each a room with the view of the rink, and here we are. No view, no rink, staring into a lonely courtyard!”

“Signora, indeed. She was from Ottawa. We may as well be back home,” Mr. Zimmermann sighed.

They approached the dining room and noticed that almost everyone seated spoke flawless English. Portraits of the late Queen lined the walls of the room, as well as a Canadian flag and a Union Jack.

“William, don’t you feel as though we are at home? As if maman might just waltz into the room at any moment?”

William lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed. Come and let us sit,” he said as he motioned toward the available chairs.

The moment they sat, two dishes were placed in front of them. The other people at the table nodded politely at William and Jack.

“Thank you,” Jack replied as a woman poured them each some red wine.

William cut into his meat and took a bite. He frowned and put down his fork. 

“This meat has been boiled. It has surely been boiled for stock. It’s lost all of its flavor!”

“I so wanted to see the rink,” Jack said quietly. “The rooms the Signora promised us said we would be overlooking the rink. It really is quite an inconvenience and disappointment.”

“Well any hovel is fine for me, cousin, but you should not have to be without your view. Especially since your parents paid for this trip and my way.”

Jack huffed. How William loved to do this. Now Jack loved his cousin, but he did have a knack for being long-suffering and loving every minute of it. Always the martyr. 

“You deserve a room with a view of the rink just as much as I do--or anyone for that matter, William.” Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, “Of course, it is silly to argue over a room that does not exist. The view is a moot point.”

“Still, should a room come up, I insist you take it,” William replied.

And so it continued for a few more exchanges as the other dinner guests threw subtle glances at one another until a third voice cut through the noise.

“I have a view!” a man seated at the end of their table exclaimed.

William turned and glared at him. “Oh… well, how lovely for you,” he replied dryly.

He was an older man with a heavy build, a bushy mustache and a shock of red hair not unlike his own. His eyes were large and full of what William could only describe as wonder. William frowned, clearly this man was ill-bred. Particularly if he was willing to interrupt a private conversation just to be a braggart. And to top it all off, he was American. American, indeed.

“My son, Eric,” the man said as he pointed to the young man seated next to him, “he has a view as well.”

Jack turned to look at the young man. He was wearing a linen suit, had his hair neatly combed back save for an unruly cowlick which stubbornly refused to conform. 

His nose was pleasantly upturned and his eyes were the color of coffee. Deep and warm. Jack shifted in his seat. He was about to say something when William interjected. “Well, it would seem you two are fortunate. Quite.”

“No, that is, what I mean is that you two can have our rooms. We can switch rooms. Clearly, a view of the rink is important to you both and it doesn’t really matter to Eric or me, either way.”

Gasps from others at the table were emitted, and William cleared his throat as he looked at his neighbors who shook their heads and tsked. 

“I appreciate the gesture, but we couldn’t possibly impose.”

“Why?” The man asked. “Why not?” 

He banged on fist on the table, and it caused Jack to smirk.

“As I’ve already said, we could not possibly impose. Thank you,” William replied sternly.

“We appreciate your offer, but you see—” Jack began. William placed a hand on Jack’s forearm. Jack stopped speaking.

“But why? I have just said that my son and I clearly have no need for a view, and you two desire one. We have a view of the rink we don’t need, you two have a room without a view. I don’t understand,” the man said with much agitation. “Eric, make them understand.”

Eric looked at Jack for only a moment, then looked away and added with nonchalance, “There’s nothing else to say. It only makes sense that you should have our rooms.”

Jack could sense William’s dread at what he considered a scene. Of course, the men were right. Why couldn’t they change rooms? Jack was perplexed. 

“William, perhaps…” Jack began.

William’s face flushed and he began to eat the meat he had rejected earlier. 

“Eat your dinner, Jack. Tomorrow we’ll just look at different pensioni seeing that this one is a failure.”

“A million apologies! A million apologies! Please forgive my tardiness,” Jack heard a strong voice say. He looked up and there stood the Reverend Mr. Knight, who waved and hurried to take his place at the table.

Jack, forgetting his manner and sense of propriety, rose to his feet, “It’s Mr. Knight! How wonderful! William, we can’t change our pensione now.”

William replied, “Why, yes. Will you see that? Mr. Knight. I’m certain you’ve forgotten us, but it’s us: Mr. Poindexter and Mr. Zimmermann. We were both there when you assisted the Vicar of St. Peter’s back on Easter.”

Mr. Knight had a vague recollection of who they were but when he saw Mr. Zimmermann’s smile, it came back to him. The subdued twinkle in the blue eyes, the hushed excitement just brimming beneath his supposed quiet demeanor; yes, he certainly remembered this young man.

“Mr. Zimmermann! Mr. Poindexter! Of course. And pray, Mr. Zimmermann, how is your mother? How are those roses of her doing?” Mr. Knight said with a smile as he placed his napkin on his lap.

“Maman is doing splendidly, thank you. Her roses won first place in last month’s conservatory seminar. She won’t stop talking about them,” Jack said with a chuckle.

William cleared his throat and whispered quietly to Jack, “I suppose we can’t leave now that Mr. Knight is here.”

“I suppose we can’t,” Jack said with a smile. 

He then felt the weight of someone’s stare on him. He felt it like a sack of flour, sitting heavily on his chest. 

Jack turned toward the end of the table and observed that the younger Mr. Bittle was staring at him quite intently. The two remained with eyes locked for a moment until Eric Bittle gingerly tilted his plate upward on one side displaying the most curious thing. He had arranged his meat and vegetables to form a question mark. 

Jack frowned at the sight. 

It was ridiculous, quite ridiculous indeed, and he had no idea what to make of it. Eric raised an eyebrow then discreetly lowered the plate and continued to eat.

“Have you planned out your day, yet?” Mr. Knight asked. “There is so much to see in this rich, wonderful country.”

“We have our _Baedeker_ ready to go,” William replied, “with all of the sights--”

“Oh, no,” a voice interrupted. “In order to truly know Florence, one must leave the _Baedeker_ behind.”

William turned toward the voice.

“This is my third time here, and the only way to travel is to let one’s self just be guided by the wind and remain as clear and open as the arctic air. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Mr. Derek Nurse.”

“Hello,” William replied, intrigued by the boldness--so much different from that the elder Mr. Bittle. “I am Mr. William Poindexter, and this is my cousin, Mr. Jack Zimmermann.”

William leaned closer to Jack and whispered, “That man seems so clever, it should seem we are in luck.”

And indeed Mr. Nurse began to set loose a perfectly full torrent of information on where they should go, what they should see, what times and how to to get there.

“And the Prato! You must go to the Prato In fact, it is I who should take you,” he quickly added.

William nodded, “We’re eternally grateful!”

Jack looked down at this plate and rolled his eyes, and at that moment he heard a small laugh come from the end of the table. He looked up and the Eric Bittle looked straight at him with a smile. The nerve.

Jack quickly looked back at this plate and consumed his meal without looking up as William continued to chat with Mr. Nurse.

After dinner, William found the Reverend Mr. Knight smoking in the drawing room and approached him. Jack entered and sat himself down in front of the piano. He gingerly pressed a few keys.

“We are most grateful to you for showing up at the moment you did. Your appearance was rather serendipitous as we were in the middle of a most uncomfortable situation.”

Mr. Knight exhaled a long plume of smoke and raised an eyebrow at William. 

“Oh? Please tell me, what can I commend myself for doing?” He asked.

“Do you by chance know the name of that older man, the American, who is here with his son?”

“Yes, the Bittles.”

“Is he an acquaintance of yours? A friend, perhaps?” William asked.

Jack turned from the piano to look at William and Mr. Knight as they spoke. He stroked the piano keys and listened intently.

“Well, we are friendly, as one tends to be in pensiones. He is here on holiday with his son. The elder Bittle was transferred to Europe by his employer. It seems that this is their first stop before their final destination where he is to work as the head clerk. I have forgotten where exactly.”

“Oh… then I shall say no more,” William said.

Mr. Knight took another puff of his pipe and then said, “If I may be of assistance in any matter, I dare say that I offer my services--in any capacity you may need.”

William looked around the parlor to survey who else was in the room, then leaned in a bit closer to Mr. Knight.

“I am not one to be put under the obligation of others. Especially to those whom we know nothing about. Mr. Bittle acted rather inappropriately--in front of the others--and I hope I acted for the best.” 

William caught Jack’s eye. Jack frowned slightly then turned his attention back to the piano.

“What occurred?” 

“They have a view of the ice rink they do not care for, as such, he suggested that my cousin and I exchange rooms with his son,” William said in a quiet tone. “Of course, I turned him down immediately. Obligation.”

“You acted very naturally,” Mr. Knight said, then appeared deep in thought. “All the same, I don’t think much harm would have come of accepting.”

William began to turn red as Mr. Knight continued.

“He is a rather odd man, but I don't think he would have taken advantage of your acceptance. Having spoken with him earlier, I do not see those machinations as part of his character. I think he was just being nice. Clearly, he has rooms he doesn’t value and thinks that you would.”

“Am I to conclude that he is a... Socialist?” William whispered.

Mr. Knight’s mustache twitched as he tried to suppress a smile.

“I suppose that is one way I heard him describe himself.”

“And as such, he has raised his son as a Socialist, as well?”

“Who is to say. Eric has hardly spoken a work, but he seems nice enough. Is very bright and has all of his father’s mannerisms so it seems fitting that he may also be a Socialist.”

“You think I am being unreasonable, don’t you,” William said. “You feel I have been narrow-minded and suspicious?”

Mr. Knight shook his head, just as Jack quickly approached them. 

“No, I think you were doing what you thought was best for you and your cousin--which is quite understandable. But honestly, I do not think there is harm in accepting.”

“See, William?” Jack said pleased. “I do so always hope that people will be nice; that they are nice at heart, and it appears Mr. Bittle is… even for an American.”

“Well, I for one, do not find his bad manners ‘nice,’” William said with a huff. “But if it would make you happy, and Mr. Knight could act as our mediator then I suppose there would be no harm. I am here, after all, to make sure you have a good trip, cousin, and am only here through your kindness.”

“Mr. Bittle has no ulterior motive. I will certainly be your mediator, and we can have the two of your in your rooms with a view in no time,” Mr. Knight said as he rose from his chair to look for the two Bittles.

“He is so helpful,” Jack said. “Just as I remember him. He seems to see good in everyone. No one would take him for a clergyman.”

“Jack!” William said as he tried to stop the small grin that threatened to form on his face.

A few moments later, Mr. Knight returned bearing a large smile.

“If you can give them but half an hour, the rooms will be all yours.”

Jack smiled as William feigned one.

**+**

William and Jack ran into the younger Bittle in the hallway just outside one of the rooms. He carried a valise that was only half closed and had a shirt hanging out of one side.

“Pardon me,” he said as he moved out of their way.

“I would like to thank your father personally for his kindness,” William said flatly. 

“You can't. He's in his bath,” Eric replied.

Jack pressed his fist to his mouth to hide his smile, and William cleared his throat. 

“Well, thank you nonetheless, and good night,” William said as they entered the room. 

Jack placed his books on the dresser and quickly walked to the window. He opened the window-shutters and smiled brightly when he saw the ice rink.

“Look at it, William. There is it!”

William patted Jack’s shoulder, “Tomorrow. You shall see it up close tomorrow. As for now, let’s finish unpacking and get to bed.”

Jack nodded and took one more look at the rink before he closed the shutter.

“I would have given the larger room to you, but I happen to know it was the younger Bittle’s. In my small way, I am a man of the world, and I did catch how he looked at you so.”

Jack looked at William, not sure what to say when they heard a knock on the door.

William answered and in marched Eric. 

“Excuse me,” he said as he walked straight to a painting on the wall, which had been flipped around. 

On the back, a question mark had been drawn. Eric flipped it back to its proper state to display the painting. He then nodded at Jack and William and left the room. Pausing only momentarily to briefly look at Jack once more before closing the door.

“What an odd, odd man,” William stated. “Whatever did that mean?”

Jack smiled, bewildered, wondering what to make of him at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I continue this?

**Author's Note:**

> This will follow the book and [the movie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xetPWLjrZCc). 
> 
> Come and say [hi on Tumblr](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> With much love to E.M. Forster and Merchant/Ivory <3
> 
> All OMGCP characters belong to Ngozi Ukazu. :)


End file.
